


All That I Got Is You

by Mignon3tte



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Consensual Sex, Dino dies, Frottage, Love Galore, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romance, Shorter Wong backstory, Songfic, Top Ash Lynx, Vers Shorter Wong, only happiness, sadness does not exist here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16583558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mignon3tte/pseuds/Mignon3tte
Summary: Before Eiji, there was only Shorter and Ash.____A look into Ash and Shorter's relationship before Eiji came along, and how the japanese boy changed their lives for the better. A  story that explores a happier plotline in which our banana boys get to live happily ever after.Rating will go up.





	1. The Neighbors Think I'm Selling Dope

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I'd like to say some things before we begin.  
> This story is exploring ash and shorter's romantic relationship before eiji came along. Polyamory will come later on in the story. Also, there will be some sexual scenes later on in the fic, I will change the rating and put a warning once those chapters come around. But have no fear, there will be NO mention of sexual assault, trauma, or abuse. It's all safe and consensual.  
> I intended this fic to be sort of snapshot style, so some scenes or chapters may not flow chronologically.  
> Finally, this fic was majorly inspired by music! Check the end notes to learn about the song references in each chapter.  
> With that said, hope you like!

Chapter 1: The Neighbors Think I’m Selling Dope

He went to juvie for selling drugs. Narcos and Coke specifically. He should have expected it, but then again, when you’re fifteen and carrying Cocaine and Fentanyl on your person at 2:00 am, you don’t think you’ll be caught. In your own head, you’re invincible. He had taken a risk by drifting all the way out to E Houston St instead of staying within Chinatown’s boundaries, but…

_“What they give you, kid?” Someone said._

_“9 months, man,”_

_“Whachu doin’ in here anyway? You oughta be home with yo’ mama,”_

_“How old are you, boy?”_

_“Fifteen,”_

_“Fifteen? Damn. The feds must be runnin’ out of people to arrest,”_

Of course it had been the wrong choice. Of course he had told Nadia that he was just going out to buy a slurpee at the 7/11. Of course he had lied. He had to. He needed to step up and keep himself, his family, and the restaurant afloat, that’s what his father asked of him. Selling on the streets brought in good money and good benefits. He had managed to climb his way up the pyramid and had at least ten people under his management. And the customers were faithful. They would come for their fix, pay up, get high, and then come crawling back once they ran out. It was absolute. He had six clients scheduled to pay up that night.

He hadn’t realized the police car parked on the side of the road. Its antennas and lights weren’t easily visible, even for his trained eyes. The large, black car with tinted windows. An undercover cop. There were two of them in the car. They must’ve been watching him as he stood on the corner, pretending to look at things on his phone. They must’ve watched the first man that came up to him, handed him a wad of crumpled up cash, and then snatched the little plastic bag from the boy’s hands. They must’ve watched him turn pale as they turned on their lights, jumped from the car, and ran towards him, guns raised and screaming. His client looked at them, stared, and then bolted, tripping on his too-long pants.

 He raised his hands. One officer grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him onto the ground while the other yelled at him to “get down!”

His chin dug into the concrete and he tasted blood. A tight burning sensation blossomed from his shoulder as the officer twisted his arm behind his back. They didn’t need to do that, he wasn’t resisting.

They forced him up and slammed him against the car. They patted him down. One, two, three, four, five, six bags of white powder on his person. One, two, three, four bags of white pills on his person. One gun on his person. One knife on his person. No identification. He must be a minor. They asked him what the powders and pills were.

“Drugs,” he said. They asked him if he was selling them.

“Yes,” he said.

There was no use in lying, what would he get out of it? Could he have said that he was forced to be a drug mule? Yes. But then they would ask him who forced him into it and he’d have to point a finger. Lying would save his ass now, but it would get him killed later.

They shoved him in the car after cuffing his hands behind his back and drove him to the police station. In a blur of panic, fear, and then submission, he was sentenced to detention.

They called it “Reform School”.

Nadia had given him a look of such anger, disappointment, and desolation then. She had to play the role of sister, mother, and father all at once, and it was proving to be too much. She thought that she had raised a capable young man who was well on his way to taking over general management of Chang Dai.

It wouldn’t be long, 9 months. But 9 months in juvie was 9 months wasted. He could have been helping with the restaurant, Nadia had said, or going to the community center. At the time, he chalked it up to Nadia not understanding.

He was frustrated with the law. Why hadn’t they put him on house arrest, or sent him to drug counseling, or given him probation? He was young, they should have gone easier on him, especially since he hadn’t been arrested before.

But they sent him away. They tossed him into prison like garbage to a garbage bin; jettisoned him into space like a stowaway. He almost cried in the courtroom. He forced himself to look down at his shoes to hide the wetness in his eyes as the judge brought down the gavel.

 Everything had been so normal before. He had gone to the barbershop and buzzed his hair off mere hours ago.

oOo

Juvie was rough, mainly because Shorter didn’t want to be there. He did as he was told, avoided the more callous guards and stayed on the good side of the lenient ones. He wrote to Nadia. He met Ash.

Ash.

They did not always get along, but whenever they fought themselves to opposite sides of the room, they were always pulled back together. Ash was charismatic, magnetic, electric, damaged. Shorter was grieving, lonely, and ashamed.

He insulted Ash once. Well, not so much insulted as he had just told him the truth. To protect him. To make sure he didn’t stray too far down a path that would not allow him to grow into the person he was destined to be.

 _Dammit, Nadia’s rubbing off on me_ , Shorter thought.

They spent time sitting next to one another before he was set free. Sitting just close enough to satiate their craving for connection, and just far enough to mask their mutual interest; just far enough to feign camaraderie. A light breeze ruffled their shirts,

“Hey, Shorter,” Ash said.

“Yeah?” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before the blond spoke again.

“You’re gonna think about me after you leave, right?” Ash had spoken while looking down at his legs, hand dangerously close to Shorter’s.

“Yeah, I will,” Shorter said, “Are you gonna think about me?”

Ash shuffled slightly, bringing one leg up and resting an arm on his knee, “Yeah,”

“Cool,”

And that ended it. They didn’t talk about it anymore. There was no need to, not when everything they needed to say could be said without words. There were no hugs, no handshakes, and no prolonged glances. Even so, they both swore on their lives that they wouldn’t let the flame die.

oOo

Nadia had a welcome home party for him when he returned. There was food and balloons and loud music. She had hugged him when he emerged from behind the thick, metal doors. For a moment, as Shorter embraced her, he was reminded of his mother holding him to her chest, how strong her arms were, and how dry her hands felt. A stab of pain pierced its way through his heart and he tightened his grip. He swore to himself in that moment that he would never disappoint Nadia again. He would never let her become as angry, as hurt, or as desperate as she had been when he was shipped away, because if he disappointed Nadia, he was disappointing his mother, his father, and his sister all in one person. He would be a good child.

His resolve lasted a week.

After that, he was back on the streets. Back to the man that gotten him into the drug world in the first place. Back to the rats.

Enrique was a tall, sturdy man with gold rings on all ten of his fingers. His head was shaved and a tattoo of the Virgin Mary covered the right side of his neck. He was the leader of the Ratas Sucias, the dirty rats, the Puerto Rican drug dealers of Manhattan. They sold everything: cocaine, marijuana, xanax, adderall, codeine, ecstasy. They were a pharmaceutical candy store.

Enrique was horribly protective of his men, easily angered and trigger happy. He was constantly hungry for more territory and played dirty to get it. Shorter would never forget the night Enrique shot his right hand man through the head. His offense: looking at the gang boss’s girlfriend for too long.

Shorter couldn’t tell if the reason Enrique never mistreated him was because of pity or parental instinct. Either way, he would never complain.

Shorter was the keystone between the Chinese and the Hispanics. He was Chinatown’s plug. Enrique took him under his wing and taught him how to sell. It wasn’t until much later that Shorter learned Enrique was using him for his own gain. Shorter was supposed to get the Chinese mafia addicted to the Latin gang’s wares. Enrique was a conniving man and he wanted Chinatown kissing his feet. Regardless of the man’s intentions, he paid Shorter well. On a Heroin night, he came home with 1000 dollars. On a Meth night, he made 3000. When he was sent to sell outside the raves, he made 5000. And that was after Enrique had taken out his share.

The raves were his idea. He would go up and down the lines of youths, all clad in fishnets, neon tops and fur, and sell ecstasy at a discounted price. A single baggie full of colorful tablets would be empty in an hour. He became well-known amongst the avid ravers; some of them would text him their pre-orders days in advance and some would bring him gifts of food and even clothes as thanks for selling them a few hours of euphoria.

Enrique said he was a valuable asset to the gang. Shorter was bringing in wads of cash and droves of clients like no one the gang had ever seen.

“You Asians are smart,” he said.

The night Shorter broke his ties with the Ratas Sucias, Enrique grabbed his hand tightly and made him a promise. It was an IOU.

“Whatever you need man, we gotchu,” The gang boss said, “We got connections,”

The Puerto Rican man had walked away, a swagger in his step, back to the sewers with the rest of the rat pack. Thanks to Enrique, he could lead, he could fight, and he could kill.

In just a month, Shorter Wong became the King of Chinatown. He prowled around day and night, keeping his people in check, ruling with ruthlessness, intimidation, and unsettling benevolence. Nadia turned a blind eye to it, but the pain that sometimes crossed her face made it evident that she hated what he had become.

oOo

Ash returned and was slightly taller, still battle hardened and angel-faced, but taller. They waited until the evening to get some alone time. They found an old wooden bridge in a factory district. It had rained, the concrete was wet and the wood above them gave off a musty smell, wonderful.

This time, there was no space between them. Their arms touched, warm skin on warm skin. Their knees knocked together. Fingers were intertwined in a vice-like grip, as if any second they would be pulled apart. They played thumb wars and bet coins and candy as prizes. A freight train passed over them once, making the wood overhead creak and shudder. When it thundered away, if left a deafening silence in its wake.

“I thought about you a lot after you left,” Ash said.

“Same,”

Ash laid his head on Shorter’s shoulder. Shorter huddled closer, seeking the warmth that no jacket could provide. He couldn’t remember when they had parted ways that night. But whenever they did, he felt like both of them were aching to say something, to confess something. The rest of the night was cold and wet. Nadia would have a bowl of soup waiting for him when he got home.

It continued like that for weeks, months, and years. They would meet in the cool of night or the light of day, whenever they could steal the fleeting moments of solitude and seek comfort in one another. Their coincidental brushes and light touches became firm and solid contact.

Ash lead the way. Shorter wouldn’t have anything else. As long as it was in Shorter’s power, when they were together, Ash would be in charge. Hand-holding, hugging, the direction they were walking, it was all Ash. Whenever Shorter relinquished his power, a warm glow settled itself in Ash’s eyes. Gratitude.

As their souls intertwined like ink on a canvas, Shorter was reminded of a song that played in his favorite bar.

_Someday, someday this will be over_

_We’ll raise a family_

_I’ll get a job and I’ll be a voter…_

But if they wanted to see that end, they would have to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Title inspired by All That I Got Is You by Ghostface Killah  
> Chapter Title inspired by Neighbors by J Cole


	2. 'Cause There's Something Between Us Anyway...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys get together. Shorter comes out. Mohawk origins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: My knowledge of Cantonese is nonexistent. Credit to google for helping me out. HOVER over the Cantonese words to find out what they mean!

The streets were always empty and wet at 4am. Neither of them had gone to sleep yet, the night was too beautiful to do so. Rats were squeaking in the alleyways, cars grinded down the wet asphalt, and the occasional yell from somewhere far away bounced off the buildings. Someone would probably get killed before the morning came, in a woody, forgotten apartment.

Shorter shoved his hands in the pockets of his vest, his fingers chilled to the bone from the wet air. Ash’s hands were hidden in a similar fashion and he caught himself wondering more than once what it would be like to hold Ash’s hand in his own, tracing over the prominent veins and sinews. He normally pushed these thoughts out of his head, but sometimes he would let his imagination take control. Ash was beautiful, that was obvious. He had an untouchable aura, like an oil painting in a museum; made to be looked at, but never touched. Ash had let Shorter touch him on a few occasions. Just a slap on the back or an arm slung playfully over his shoulders when they were messing around. They were casual touches, and if casual touches were the only contact Shorter could get, he could make do.

Ash touched him frequently. He shoved him, grabbed his elbow to lead him away, even put a palm on his hip when no one was watching. Shorter let himself be touched. He held strong to his vow to let Ash pave the way, whatever power Ash could have was handed to him eagerly. If Ash wanted to keep distance, they would, and if Ash wanted to grow closer, they could. As it happened, Ash seemed to be favoring the latter.

They orbited around one another, slowly growing closer. They spent more nights hiding under the bridge or amidst the faded cargo containers by the water. They often talked about themselves and one another during those nights. They made jokes about people they knew, enjoying the sound of the other’s laughter. Sometimes, they would go to Black Tap for milkshakes and sit in the booth of the far end until far past closing. If the cashier knew they were both gang leaders, she didn’t say anything about it. And if she slipped them some extra fries when her manager wasn’t watching, she didn’t charge them. She always had a knowing look in her eyes. Shorter glanced at her nametag, but he forgot it  as soon as she walked away.

It was nice sitting in the diner with Ash. The dim lights put a soft glow on his blond hair, and the black and white pillars made him stand out. His eyes were brilliantly green. Ash stared at him and said,

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”

Shorter said, “Yeah, I am,”

Ash made a face, “You’re gonna suffer for that later,” he said. Shorter took his sunglasses off, setting them to the side, and then brought the straw to his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

“Worth it,” he said.

“You look cuter without your glasses,” Ash said. Shorter swallowed his mouthful hard to avoid choking. What the fuck?

“I, uh,” Shorter trailed off. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the complement. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel butterflies fluttering in his gut when Ash said that. He did feel it. But this wasn’t Ash’s usual flirting. Ash liked to flirt in a very cryptic way. He liked to insult Shorter and make jokes out of him—sarcastically of course. Ash never intended to hurt him. What drove Shorter crazy, though, was how much Ash knew that _Shorter_ knew it was flirting. Shorter let insults and hurtful words roll off his back like water; it was hard to anger or hurt him. Complements, on the other hand, sent Shorter’s heart fluttering. And now, even if he wore his sunglasses the next day, he would remember Ash saying he looked better without them.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sunglasses are cool too, but,” Ash trailed off as well, choosing to take a sip of his milkshake instead. Shorter gave a nervous chuckle in response.  Dammit, what’s wrong with me, he thought to himself, am I some nervous crushing teena-… wait.

He looked down at his phone, unlocked it, and then locked it again. Ash plucked a cookie from the dollop of whipped cream topping his milkshake and took a bite.

“They use real Oreos here,” Ash said. Shorter tried to stay focused,

“Oh yeah?”

Ash said, “Yeah take a look,” and held up the cookie so Shorter could see the logo imprinted on both sides.

“Damn, they’re not pulling any stops here,” Shorter stopped for a moment and then said, “Can I have one?”

Ash pushed his milkshake closer to himself, “No way,” he said. Shorter dropped it.

Instead, Shorter said “I once tried the mint ones.”

“How were they?”

“Tasted like toothpaste,” Shorter winced as he remembered the abrasive flavor. Those cookies were three dollars wasted.

“Gross. Have you tried the cherry cola ones they put out this year?” Ash said. Shorter noticed that his eyes seemed to have brightened.

“No, but that sounds disgusting,”

Ash swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, then said, “They are. Skip bought a pack and let me try some,”

“Did he like them?”

“No, but he ate them all anyway,”

“The lemon ones are actually really good if you like lemon flavored things,”

“I hate lemon flavored things.” Ash reached for his phone and leaned back in the booth. The conversation waned then. Shorter unlocked his phone and did the same.

He scrolled for a moment, then said, “Thanks by the way,”

Ash looked up, “For what?” he said. He arched a golden eyebrow. Shorter swallowed.

“For the compliment,” he said.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Ash said with a snort, “took you long enough.”

Shorter instinctively reached for his sunglasses, but caught himself just in time. It wouldn’t feel right to put them on, now.

Later, as they walked down the sidewalk in the misting rain, Ash said “I like hanging out with you.” Shorter wondered if that meant something, but before his mind could wander, Ash spoke again.

“We should be together more,” he said. Shorter blanched. There was definitely a hidden meaning there. Ash never said something for the sake of saying it; there was always purpose to his words.

“Hey whatever you want, man. I’ll make time for you,” Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. It was too bold, too forward. But-

“You will?” Ash said softly. Shorter looked at him and there was hope in his eyes, a faint glimmer in the emerald green. For a moment, Ash looked so young. Shorter pushed his glasses up his nose with a forefinger.

“Of course I will! You know that,” He tried his luck and slung an arm around Ash’s shoulders.

Ash gave a soft laugh and said, “Yeah, I do know that”. He shoved his hands in his pockets and, as Shorter noticed, didn’t wriggle out of the taller boy’s grip.

oOo

They had become a couple with very few words. As it happened, they were sitting under the wooden bridge again, throwing rocks at the rodents that scurried by.

Ash said, “Do you wanna be together? I really like you.”

Shorter said, “Sure, why not?”

Ash had snorted at that, “Why not?” he repeated.

“I mean it,” Shorter said, “I really like you too.”

A moment flashed before Shorter’s eyes, a moment he was sure had happened when they were younger. Ash lifted his knee and rested his arm on it.

“Cool.” He said. He smiled softly and then, in his usual boldness, rested his head on Shorter’s shoulder. Shorter felt a burning sensation where Ash’s head connected. It shot through his shoulder and pierced its way through his heart, setting it into overdrive. He started having thoughts, and, in a sudden burst of confidence and stupidity, he voiced them.

“And, forgive me for being brash,” he started, “but let’s make a promise.” There was silence for a moment, and then Ash lifted his head and looked at him.

“Okay, what?” he said.

Shorter said, “Let’s pinky promise to stay by each other’s side, no matter what.” He held out his pinky. A cold wave of apprehension washed over him then. This was too much; he shouldn’t be trying to influence Ash to commit to anything. Ash was supposed to be in control; Ash was supposed to be free. Maybe he should take it back-

“I like that. Pinky promise,” Ash said. He lifted his pinky, the finger slender and pale, and wrapped it around Shorter’s. He looked at the taller boy and smiled. A genuine smile. One Shorter knew that he’d never forget. That one he had on his face right then.

“No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Ash had the sudden desire to press his forehead to Shorter’s, to kiss him, feel his warmth. Shorter could see it in his eyes; he could feel it in the way his grip went slack. Shorter stood up.

“Alright boyfriend,” that word was foreign on his tongue, “how about a milkshake on me?”

Ash snorted and said, “Is this our first date?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah, it is.” Shorter said. Ash stood as well,

“You need to ask me out properly then,” he said.

There it was again, Ash surprising him. Ash was into this, he was _okay_ with this. He wanted this to be real.

“Alright then,” Shorter said, and then gave Ash a mock bow, “Ash Lynx, will you go out with me?”

“Hmmm, I dunno,” Ash was playing with him now. Fucking hell.

“It’s your choice,” Shorter said.

“Yes, I accept.” Ash said. He had his head tipped back and was looking down his nose at Shorter. The Chinese boy felt like his stomach was full of warm champagne. He was positively giddy. He reached out his hand, palm up, and said “care to accompany me on a fine evening’s stroll?”

Ash laughed at him. “You’re too much, c’mon.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and nodded in the direction of the bus stop.

Shorter placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars. The sky was clear, no rain. The forecast said there wouldn’t be rain for the next few days. He stole a glance at Ash. He was looking at the road ahead, slightly slouched as usual. A pinky promise.

 “Did I ever tell you I’m pan?” Shorter said. He’d already lost his filter, might as well spill it.

Ash said, “No you didn’t, but that’s cool.”

“And…” Shorter stopped himself. C’mon words.

“And?” Ash prompted. Shorter felt like he was going to vomit.

“And I’m poly too,”

“That means you can have relationships with multiple people, right?”

“Pretty much,” Shorter said. Ash closed his eyes for a moment that, in Shorter’s opinion, was way too long. Had the conversation ended?

“That’s cool too,” Ash said. He opened his eyes and looked at Shorter. “Just don’t catch any diseases.”

Shorter whined, “C’mon man,” and earned a chuckle from the blond.

“And don’t forget about me.” Ash said. His voice was soft then, almost insecure. Shorter felt a familiar protectiveness fill his chest.

“Of course I won’t. You’ll always be my priority,” He said.

Ash said, “That’s cheesy.”

Shorter said, “But it’s true.”

Ash chuckled, more breath than sound. “Yeah.”

oOo

It was a Wednesday when they got to Shorter’s place in Chinatown, buzzed from the Rum Cokes they shared down at the bar. Ash’s arm was around Shorter’s middle as they climbed the stairs. Shorter’s hair was coming out of its ponytail, dark brown shoulder-length strands obscuring his face. Ash was laughing at a joke Shorter made.

They reached Shorter’s and Nadia’s apartment. A four-bedroom home occupied by two people. Shorter leaned against the door, catching his breath. Ash shoved his hands in his pockets again.

“I think you need to sleep it off,” he said.

“I think you need to sleep it off, too,” Shorter replied. He noticed something then, something that he had grown fond of. Ash had a look in his eyes. A look that meant he was thinking, calculating.

He held out his fist and they knocked them once, twice, and then grabbed hands. They stayed interlocked for a few more seconds than was necessary, chuckling.

“Dude, you’re red as fuck,” Ash said.

“And you look like a hot mess,” Shorter said back. Both of them were giggling like school children. They weren’t high, or anything. They were just enjoying life, something neither of them got to do very often.

Then, as usual, Ash surprised Shorter, this time more so than he ever thought was possible.

Shorter saw it in slow motion. Ash stepped closer, into his personal space, put a hand on the back of his neck, and brought Shorter’s mouth down onto his own. A bonfire ignited in Shorter’s chest. Ash Lynx was kissing him.

They both sighed into it, as if they had both been wanting it to happen for too long. There was another kiss, and another. Ash was good at this.

When the blond pulled away, Shorter said, “That was cool.” Fucking love-struck brain.

Ash laughed. “I liked it too,” he said.

“See you around?” Shorter said.

“Yeah,”

“Stay safe, Ash.” Shorter said. Ash turned to walk away, giving him one last look. His eyes were twinkling in the dim hallway lights.

First kiss. Shorter really needs to get used to Ash surprising him every fucking time they meet.

oOo

“Hey Nadia, I’ve got something to tell you,” Shorter said. Nadia was busy chopping carrots in the kitchen. The knife was making rhythmic crunching noises as it glided its way through the vegetable. Behind her, two huge vats of broth were bubbling away. The aroma of boiling chicken, pepper, and green onion filled the air. The washing machine was running too; it spewed out steam and made the kitchen humid and hot. Peter, the main cook, was not due to show up for another half hour.

Nadia didn’t look up at Shorter and said, “Can it wait until after we open up?”

Shorter said, “Not really.” He brought a hand up and scratched the back of his head.  She finished chopping the carrot, gathered it on the knife, and dumped it into a plastic container already overflowing with slices of the orange vegetable. In a smooth motion, she flipped the cutting board over and then walked into the fridge, emerging again with a box of red bell peppers.

Nadia said, “Well, what is it?” and resumed chopping. But then, after Shorter didn’t say anything, she froze.

“We’re not in danger are we?” She said. It always bothered Shorter when she brought up the dangerous life he was living. But he knew his sister did it because she was worried about him. Stop playing gangster and come home, she would say to him.

“No, we’re not. We’re definitely not.” Shorter said quickly. “It’s just something I want you to know,”

“Okay,” Nadia said, and then added, “Will you make yourself useful instead of standing there, please?”

“In a sec,” Shorter said. He had maybe two hours until he had to go check in with Amari and the rest of the guys.

“Then spit it out Guanxing! 赶快!" Shorter hated it when Nadia used his real name, it reminded him of his mother.

“Okay, okay,” Shorter let out a breath, “I’m pansexual.”

Nadia stopped chopping, then started up again, “And?”

“And I’m polyamorous,”

“No, I meant and that’s it?”

Shorter was taken aback, “I-I guess?”

Nadia made a soft humming sound as she cut a pepper into thin even slices.

“You know mom and dad would disown you if you told them that,” She said.

Shorter sighed, “Yeah, I know,”

“But since they’re not here, their opinion doesn’t matter,” Nadia said. She turned to Shorter, pausing in her chopping and slicing.

“Frankly, I don’t care what you are, as long as you don’t make too much trouble,”

Shorter suddenly felt like he could cry. Now he couldn’t make fun of people that got emotional after they came out to their loved ones.

“Really?” He said.

Nadia put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course, now give me a hug,” Shorter couldn’t object to that, so he pulled her in and squeezed her tightly.

“我愛你”

“I love you too,”

Nadia let go and stepped back, “广东话?” 

“屌你” Shorter said.

“You need to watch your mouth,” Nadia said.

“I learned it from you,”

Nadia mumbled something as she walked back into the fridge. Shorter made good on his promise to make himself useful by finding a clean knife and chopping the green onions.

His meeting with Amari and the rest of the guys had gone well. None of Arthur’s men had tried to pick a fight for a while, and none of the leaderless punks had set foot on their turf. Shorter found himself strutting down the sidewalk towards Kev’s place.

Kev was a tall and lanky man, maybe an inch taller than Shorter, and he was covered in tattoos. Both arms were wrapped in mosaics, mandalas, and all-seeing eyes. He hooked Shorter up with his favorite switch blades and daggers—and would clean and polish them for a good price. He worked at a barber shop.

Shorter pushed the door open, the electronic bell announcing his entrance. There was no one in at this hour. Kev jogged around the corner towards the front desk.

“What’s up, Short?”

Shorter said “I need you to do something with this,” and ran a hand through his hair, which was shoddily thrown into a ponytail. Kev leaned on the front desk, resting his head in one hand.

“What are you thinking?”

 “Gimme a Mohawk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Something About Us by Daft Punk  
> Follow me on tumblr @flowers-and-memes


	3. The Air You Breath, Exhale All Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Shorter get intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content. Viewer discretion is advised.

 “Do you have any threes?”

“Go fish,” The sound of paper cards flapping against one another cut through the air.

“Do you have any sevens?”

“Go fish,”

They sat on the couch, across from one another, a pile of cards and an ashtray between them. Shorter’s room was quaint. It had a gaudy mix of traditional Chinese and urban decorations. Succulents and lush herbs lined the windowsill. The room itself was the size of Ash’s entire apartment. Ash remembers Shorter mentioning that it used to be a guest room and that he and Nadia used to share another. As it was, the two were playing Go Fish with a deck of Uno cards, passing a joint back and forth to help ease the tensions of the day. They had foregone their pants about an hour ago.

It was a wonderful show of intimacy, Shorter noticed. That Ash trusted both Shorter enough to expose himself more. When he stayed the night, he would sleep in nothing but his underwear, climbing into bed like it wasn’t as big a deal as Shorter thought it was. Ash was beautiful, of course, from head to toe. But there was more than physical attraction. Shorter knew that both he and Ash needed something deeper than physical connection. Physical touch was too fleeting, too empty. But when that touch was fueled by trust, intimacy, _love_ , Shorter thought, that’s when you really feel it.

Ash said, “Do you have any reds?” Shorter looked up. Ash’s socked foot was tapping against his calf.

He said, “That’s not how the game is played.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “So you do have reds?”

“I thought we agreed on just numbers?”

“We didn’t agree on anything. We just started playing Go Fish.” Ash said. He had that sly smirk pulling on his lips.

“Well, for your information, I don’t have any reds,” Shorter said. Ash narrowed his eyes then, his smirk turning into a grin.

“You’re lying,”

Shorter blanched. “I’m not lying, what do you mea-“

“Show me your hand,” Ash said in a demanding tone.

“I don-“

“Show me the cards!” Ash cut Shorter off. There was a beat of silence, and then Ash lunged for him, making a grab for them. Shorter leaned back and threw them into the air. The cards fell slow like autumn leaves; like confetti or glitter framing the blond boy’s face.

“Sorry, I don’t have them anymore,” Shorter said, unable to keep a straight face. Ash smiled at him as if he had proven him wrong.

“I knew it!”

“You didn’t even look at the cards I had,” Shorter was laughing now. They were both laughing. Ash tackled Shorter, pushing him back onto the couch and laying his head on his chest. They relished the moment, giving and taking energy as they giggled like children. When he caught his breath, Ash lifted his head and looked at Shorter with a soft smile.

“What?” Shorter said. His breath smelled like marijuana.

Ash shifted his position slightly and said, “Nothin’,”

Shorter said, “C’mon, I’m hungry,”

There wasn’t much in the fridge to eat. Nadia wasn’t due to go grocery shopping until morning. Ash complained that there was nothing to eat, even though there were a handful of perfectly edible snacks.

“Perfectly edible in _your_ opinion,” Ash said. He had turned his nose up to the nuts, the rice crackers, and the dried squid, which left them with only one option: olives. Shorter grabbed the can from the back of the fridge and, after inspecting the expiration date, handed the can to Ash.

“It’s something,” the blond said with a shrug.  

As it happened, the two boys found themselves sitting on the bar stools at the counter, hunched over their phones and popping olives into their mouths. Pretty damn glamorous, Shorter thought.

“Here,” Ash said, “Open wide. I wanna throw one into your mouth,”

“Hold on,” Shorter said. He finished chewing, swallowed, and stood from the stool at the counter.

“You can do one after,” Ash said. He narrowed his eyes, lining up his shot, and tossed. The green olive made an arc and landed right on the taller boy’s tongue.

“Oh, score!” Ash cheered, hands raised in celebration. Then he opened his own mouth, sticking his tongue out. Shorter took his shot, and missed.

“This isn’t fair, you have a smaller mouth than me,” He said.

“Shut up and try again,” Ash said. And so Shorter tried again, and missed.

“You suck at this,” Ash said jokingly. Shorter shoved him and they started laughing again.

They danced to soft music. Ash had one hand on Shorter’s shoulder, one on his hip, and they were swaying. He lifted his head from its resting spot in the crook of Shorter’s neck, looked at him for a beat, and then tucked it under his chin. Shorter felt no emotions in his heart in that moment. It was odd. No happiness, no anger, no fear. Instead it was all replaced by the sensation of closeness, a feeling of companionship and mutual understanding. They were energized by one another. Neither of them said a word and their swaying continued.

_Honestly, your lips would never lie to me._

_I can taste your love approaching me._

_This feeling’s too good._

Shorter pressed his nose into Ash’s hair and inhaled. It smelled like summer. Warm and bright and golden. Ash was like summer right? He was heat and freedom and …and what? Ash wasn’t carefree—he was the opposite. But Shorter _wanted_ Ash to be carefree. He deserved to be carefree—should be carefree. Shorter could imagine a time when Ash must’ve been innocent, no problems in his life and nothing but love in his heart. But that was taken away, wasn’t it? His sense of security was nabbed from him by a hand stronger than his own. Shorter could relate. There was rarely a night when he went to bed without wishing his mother was still there to put her dry, stiff hand on his back and tell him “good night, love”.

It wasn’t fair, was it? Shorter looked at the calendar.

**August 23 rd, 2018**. They had been doing this for years now. For years they had been fighting for their lives, suffering for trying to fight back, punished for being freaks. Shorter had now grown used to Ash glaring at him, even screaming at him, fists beating against his chest.

“Let me do this!” He would say. And Shorter learned to let him do it. Any attempts at persuading Ash to let the police take charge never succeeded. And yet, even when they argued and fought, they always came back to one another. They had gotten too close, hit the point of no return, and could do nothing but protect one another with their lives.

Ash spoke from his place under Shorter’s chin, “Some guy wants to interview me next month.”

“Who?” Shorter said. He felt Ash shrug in his embrace.

“Some guy from Japan I think? I dunno, police told me,”

“Why, though?” Shorter said. His brows furrowed, wrinkling the skin between them.

“I don’t know. I’ll do it, though. Police said they’d do me a favor if I did,”

Shorter sighed, “Still weird though.”

“Yeah it’s pretty weird. I’m not a celebrity. But anything to get the feds off my ass for a minute,”

Shorter only hummed in response.

It happened in a flurry then. One moment, they were swaying to the music. The next moment they were kissing softly. And the next, they were shirtless, and Ash was ushering him towards the bed. Their lips were still interlocked, breaking and connecting in a practiced pattern. Shorter let himself be inched backwards, taking small steps, his hands resting on Ash’s hips.

What’s happening here, Shorter thought to himself. It was a stupid question, really, because he knew what was happening. What he didn’t know, however, was _why_ it was happening. And still, he didn’t resist, he was curious. He let his legs touch the edge of the bed. He let himself fold into a sitting position, and he let himself be scooted further back to make room. He let himself be pushed down onto his back by a strong, paled hand splayed across his chest. He let himself be kissed again, this time with more ferocity.

Shorter realized his hands were on Ash’s torso and he let go immediately, letting his arms fall onto the bed. Whatever this is, Shorter thought, I’m yours. When Ash broke away again, Shorter stole the moment to say “Hey, what are we doing?” He wanted to break Ash’s rhythm, to see if this was him just performing an act or if this was real. Ash was silent for a moment as he looked into Shorter’s eyes.

“Touching,” Ash said. It sounded like a question. Shorter was already out of breath.

“Do you want this?” He said.

Without missing a beat, Ash said, “Do you?”

“I’m asking _you_ , Ash. Do you want this? Is this okay?” Shorter felt his vision become crystal clear again.

Ash said, “I do.”

Shorter said, “You do,” as if he needed confirmation.

Ash said, “Yeah,” in a soft, breathless voice. It was real, they were there, together, and it was real.

“Yeah,” Shorter repeated, and then laid his head back against the sheets. Ash wasted no time in claiming his lips again. The kisses weren’t chaste anymore, but the intimacy and trust remained. They kissed as if they never had before, as if they were still learning each other’s rhythm, carving out the contours of one another’s lips.

Shorter could feel every limb that Ash touched come to life. It was a wave of warmth, like gold glitter falling onto his skin, like he was bathing in sunlight. His breathing quickened again when Ash sat back on his heels and ran that pale hand down his stomach.

If only you could see how good you are, Shorter thought, then you would know why I love you so much.

Ash trailed his fingers up his thigh, tracing the muscles and making them twitch. The touch continued to his hip, and then up his stomach and Shorter felt it. Ash was opening him up. He was unzipping him so that he could look into his soul, so that he could inspect the contents and admire the stitching.

“Good,” Ash said quietly. To anyone else, it might have seemed like Ash was complimenting his body. But anyone else would be wrong. Ash was poking and prodding at his wounds, admiring the places he had been damaged, tapping at the scar tissue. Where he touched, there should have been pain, but there was only warmth. Each caress said “its okay, we’re here. We’re together and we’re here.”

Shorter didn’t realize his own hands had found their way to Ash’s torso again. One was running up his spine, feeling the bumps of each vertebra, unzipping. But there was something there. Something was in the way.

What’s this, Shorter thought. Something was growing, incubating in the blond boy’s soul. It was wrapped up, cocooned, biding its time. There was a beat of energy from it, then, and Shorter knew. Wings. Ash was going to fly someday.

You’re so good, Shorter thought. So very very good.

Ash kissed his cheek, and Shorter realized he had been smiling. Shorter had the sudden clarity of mind to realize that the music was still playing.

_The parts of me that eyes can’t see, they’re glowing underneath._

They slipped together then, fitting like lock and key. No cloth to separate them, it was skin on skin and Shorter realized it was _so warm_. Ash felt so real.

“Ah,” Ash said.

“Yes,” Shorter said.

The moved against one another, pushing and grinding. Shorter was burning up where they connected and it radiated all the way to his chest, making him flush and sweat. Ash was sweating too, both from the heat and the exertion, it dripped down from his jaw. Shorter gasped and then moaned; Ash had him, and Shorter was sure he wasn’t going to let go. Not ever. The pinky promise flashed through his mind and he moaned louder than he intended to. Ash responded with a breathy sound of his own. They were tangled together now, burning up where their bodies connected. Ash’s golden glitter was pouring into his soul, and Shorter felt it filling him up. He had to give something of his own, so that it was give and take, push and pull. And so he let go of the last remnants of apprehension and let his own self melt into Ash. It touched the edges of the glitter, pooled there, and then it was pulled in. Like drops of wax falling down a candle, Shorter let himself reach deep into the boy above him.

“Yes,” Shorter said. They kissed again, sharing their pleasure and their pain. As they moved, feeling a climax approaching, they put their entire beings on full display. Ash made a sound, had he said a word? To Shorter, it sounded like “You-“. Like he was trying to ask him something. But it was too late anyway.

They came together with animal grunts, rutting against one another in frantic thrusts. Shorter felt a searing flash of white heat cut its way through him and it made him flinch. He grabbed at Ash’s arms and pushed their foreheads together, connecting their bodies in any way he could. It grew quiet, then. They breathed each other’s air.

Shorter was suddenly very aware of the stickiness of their bodies. He opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realized were closed, and saw Ash above him and his room around him.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Ash gave a snort then, still catching his breath. He lifted himself, albeit lazily, and lay down next to Shorter, resting his head on the taller boy’s chest.

“Of course I am,” Ash said. His voice was soft and breathless, as if he was surprised this had happened too.

“Good,” Shorter breathed out. He pulled Ash closer and squeezed. It was silent for a moment, and then Shorter said, “We’re here.” It came out like a question, as if he needed reassurance. But he _did_ need reassurance, didn’t he? This was real, it had to be real. It couldn’t be just an act or Shorter would destroy himself for allowing Ash slip back into that persona again.

“We are here.” Ash said. Okay, Shorter thought. I can have this, please let us have this.

oOo

“I want a life like this,” Ash said.

“Like what?” Shorter said. They were laying on his bed, legs tangled together, and the sheets a knotted mess.

“This,” Ash said, “where we can just cuddle and be safe.”

Shorter didn’t know how to respond, so he simply tightened his grip and pulled Ash closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title inspired by Open Wide by Duendita  
> Other songs included:  
> One of One by Duendita  
> Unfold by Alina Baraz  
> Follow me on tumblr @flowers-and-memes


	4. Do You Feel That I Can See Your Soul?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel gets his wings.

_“Guan Xing, pay attention!” the woman said. She was standing at the counter in their cramped kitchen, kneading a lump of dough. A young boy was standing next to her._

_“This is important, Guan Xing! You must know this,” She tried again._

_“Okay!” the young boy said, exasperation in his tone. He took his lollipop out of his mouth, smelled it, and then popped it back in._

_“One day you will be the owner of Chang Dai,” she said, and with that, she resumed her kneading._

_A teenage girl sitting at the table nearby said, “Confucius says that if a man sets his heart on benevolence, he will be free from evil.”_

_“Very good Ngai Mei. Your tutor will be impressed,” the woman said._

_“Know-it-all,” Guan Xing said and stuck out his tongue._

_The woman slapped the back of his head and said, “You be quiet!”_

_“She’s smarter than me and she keeps bragging,” he said._

_The woman stopped kneading the dough and kneeled down to look at her son._

_“Guan Xing,” she said, “my love, there are more ways to be smart than academics.”_

_Her voice was so soft. One moment, she had hit him, the next she was cradling his face between her stiff, gnarled hands._

_“Which is why I am teaching you how to knead the dough. You must know how to run the restaurant when your father and I retire,” she said._

_“How come_ she _doesn’t have to learn?” Guan Xing said and pointed a finger at his older sister._

_“Because she already knows how to knead the dough,” his mother said, and then stood up to return to the counter. “Now focus! Your father will be home soon and we must have dinner ready for him.”_

oOo

“This is going to sting,” Max said and then proceeded to jam a needle into his skin. Shorter recoiled at the stinging sensation. He heard a rustling behind him, and then a wince. Ash must have woken up.

“Hey Ash,” Shorter said.

“I wanted to leave today, as planned,” Max said. Shorter felt the string pulling through his skin and grew nauseous.

“Leave,” Ash said, confused.

Max said, “To Cape Cod. Where you and Griff grew up.”

“Why?”

“For the pictures and letters Griff left.” Max finished the stitching and placed a wad of gauze over it. There was silence then. Shorter hadn’t heard footsteps, so Ash couldn’t have left. And he shouldn’t leave, Shorter thought, he’s injured. Max looked over his shoulder,

“You alright?” he said. Shorter looked over as well, a hand coming up to the bandages on his head.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Ash said. He was pale, too pale, and he was covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Max said and pointed toward a door on the far right side of the room. Ash rushed in, slamming the door behind him.

“You think he’s…” Max trailed off. He chose to look up at the loft where Ibe was sitting, watching Eiji closely.

Shorter said, “I’ll go check on him,” and stood up with a wince. He touched his head again, but quickly removed it when the touch crated a stinging sensation.

He stopped at the door and wrapped his knuckles against the wood. “Ash, you alright?” he asked. There was no response.

“Can I come in?” he tried again. There was a dry cough, and then Ash said, “Yeah,” in a weak voice. Shorter turned the knob and slipped in, shutting the door behind him quickly.

Ash was on the floor, sitting on his hip with his legs splayed out, arms around the toilet bowl. His back and shoulders were glistening with sweat. He was out of breath.

“So you’re not alright,” Shorter said. Ash sent a glare his way, but whipped his heat back to the toilet when his stomach twisted. He wretched into the bowl, but nothing came out. Shorter kneeled down next to him and placed a hand on his wet shoulder. The skin was cold and clammy, and there was a slight trembling. Ash’s panting came out in slow, shallow breaths.

“Shorter, I-“  he said, but was interrupted by another dry heave. He gave another one, and this time, his breakfast flowed out of him in a torrent. He started coughing then, the acid burning his throat.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Shorter said, moving his hand from Ash’s shoulder to his back. He was sweating even more. He heaved again, and more of liquid splashed into the bowl. Ash wheezed, trying to catch his breath. His body was full-on shaking.

Ash coughed, hard this time, and then brought up more. His body curled in on itself, and Shorter saw something happen in his mind’s eye. As Ash was retching into the toilet, trembling and sweating on the floor, there was an explosion. Two white, glimmering pinions exploded from Ash’s back in a flurry of blood and feathers. They punctured the pale, translucent skin and stretched out wide, flapping once, twice, three times before they folded themselves down to rest. Ash was an angel, and he had just gotten his wings.

Shorter blinked hard and the image was gone, leaving a shaky, trembling Ash in his wake. The blond boy coughed one more time, spit into the bowl and then reached up to flush.

“Fuck,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

“You alright?” Shorter said. It was not the best question to ask, especially since Ash could lie so easily. And also because he just fucking puked his guts, Shorter thought.

“Yeah,” Ash said in a whisper. He made no effort to move away from the toilet bowl.

“You did it, Ash.” Shorter said, and Ash gave a breathy laugh. His breathing was unsteady.

“I feel like shit,” he said. Shorter found a towel and wiped the sweat from the back of Ash’s neck.

Ash _had_ done it. He’d taken the shot, standing on the roof of a semi-trick, letting himself be seen by the man who tried to destroy his soul. Shorter remembered the sound of the gunshot, rolling like thunder, clapping like lightening. And Ash’s yell. It was the roar of a lion. His prey had crumpled to the ground, its blood splattered on the door behind it, and they had crashed. Shorter’s vision had gone blurry when he bashed his head against the window, but they had made it out alive, somehow.  A shot straight through the brain. There would be no recovering. Dino Golzine was dead, eaten alive by the lion he thought he could tame.

Shorter remembered watching a show about people who thought they could keep wild cats as pets. He remembered watching the raw, uncensored footage, taken on a shaky camcorder by a panicking relative, of the captive lion ripping open the torso of its owner and devouring their entrails, all while its owner howled in agony. He remembered the lion’s eyes, glowing in the darkness, its victorious snarling, and the steaming breath that rolled out of its blood-stained mouth. It was grotesque and it was beautiful.

“He won’t hurt me,” the owner would say, “he knows not to hurt me because he knows I’m his superior.”

The following footage of said lion snapping its owner’s neck with one swipe of its paw was pure ecstasy.

“What do you need?” Shorter said. He placed a hand on Ash’s upper back and rubbed it in gentle circles.

“Just…” Ash was still panting, “Just don’t leave.”

Shorter felt his heart explode, his chest filling with warmth. Of course he wouldn’t leave now, Ash was stupid for thinking he would.

“’Course I won’t leave. We promised, remember?” Shorter lifted his pinky so Ash could see it. Ash looked at the finger, then at Shorter, and lunged for him. He pressed his face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like sweat and vomit.

“I love you so much,” Ash said. It sounded like he was crying, but Shorter couldn’t tell. He held Ash tighter than he ever had before, practically squeezing the breath out of the blond boy, as if he might fly away to heaven if he let go.

“I love you too.” Shorter said. It was over, they were free. _Ash_ was free. He could fly away now, away from the torture and abuse and vulnerability, and into the sunlight. Shorter felt tears of his own tumble down his cheeks.

“You’re amazing, Ash,” He said. Ash started sobbing and Shorter felt a wet spot form on his shirt. They stayed that way for a while, crying and trembling in one another’s arms. The anxiety, the pain, the despair, the powerlessness were all gone, blown away like dust on a windowsill.

The room around them felt too cold, suddenly, and their trembling turned into violent shivering. Shorter noticed that he had been sweating, too. But he didn’t care that his shirt was sticking to his back, or that Ash smelled like the dumpster behind Chang Dai. To him, it was the most beautiful moment of his life; sitting on the bathroom floor, latching onto Ash, feverish with the foreign feeling of freedom and victory.

I’m going to pray tonight, Shorter thought. I don’t care where, but I’m going to pray and I’m going to thank the gods. Thank you gods, thank you, _thank you-_

“Thanks for what?” Ash said. Shorter opened his eyes, not having realized he had closed them. He must have been thinking out loud. Shorter pushed back to look at Ash. His eyes were puffy and red, and his cheeks were wet. Mucus from his nose had run down his lips and chin. Shorter couldn’t resist the urge and ran a thumb under one emerald green eye to wipe away the tears. He opened and closed his mouth as he thought of an answer.

“Just, thank you, Ash,” Shorter said. “You may not know it, but you’re an angel.”

“Like the ones you used to jack off to in juvie?” Ash said. Shorter looked up at him. Was he fucking with him again, already? Jesus fucking Christ. There was a beat of silence, and then they burst out laughing. Ash’s laugh sounded like a mixture between a giggle and a sob. To Shorter, it was like the ringing of church bells; the melody of his mother’s wind chimes swaying in the breeze.

“I mean it, Ash,” Shorter said, “You just saved the world.”

That seemed to aggravate the open wound, and Ash gave a strangled sob and slammed his mouth onto Shorter’s. Their teeth knocked together and they would definitely both be bruised, but it was the best kiss of Shorter’s life. It was a kiss that tasted of joy, pain, relief, tears, and—oh, there’s the puke, Shorter thought. They broke apart to catch their breath.

Shorter lifted his pinky finger again, a gesture. “Let’s stay by each other’s side no matter what.”

Ash looked at the outstretched finger, and then at Shorter. His eyes showed nothing but love, so much love that it was painful. Their fingers linked together.

“No matter what.”

oOo

“There you two are,” Max said. They had emerged from the bathroom, hand in hand. If Max saw that their hands were intertwined, he didn’t say anything.

“Everything’s good!” Shorter said and gave a thumbs up.

Max ignored him and said, “Are you okay, Ash?” Ash stared at him for a moment, then sighed and said “I think so.”

“Well good, we should get moving soon,” Max said, and nodded towards the loft. Eiji was up and Ibe was handing him a glass of water. Ash let go of Shorter’s hand and drifted to him.

Eiji’s eyes lit up when he saw the blond boy. “Ash,” he said.

“Hey,” Ash said, a glow in his eyes. Shorter walked over as well.

“You alright?” Ash said.

“Yes,” Eiji said. Ibe coaxed him to take another sip of water, saying something softly in Japanese.

“Glad you made it through, Eiji. You’re a trooper!” Shorter said. Eiji tilted his head to the side.

“Trooper?” he said.

“Nevermind,” Ash said, “Are you hungry?” Eiji shook his head.

Shorter was lucky he had his sunglasses on, because he found himself staring. He hadn’t had a lot of time to get a good look at the Japanese boy. The light from the sunset was shining through the window, making his eyes look like caramels. His cheeks were plump and Shorter wondered how soft they would feel under his fingertips. Eiji was speaking to Ibe in Japanese. His voice was soft and airy. Like a lullaby, Shorter thought.

“I—am—not—hungry,” Eiji said, tripping over each word. Oh, right, Shorter thought, Eiji’s English wasn’t the best. It had only been a few days since Eiji and Ibe arrived in New York. Ibe sounded like he had been speaking English for years, but there was no telling how much of the language Eiji knew.

“Finish your water and then we’ll go,” Ash said. Shorter looked at him and realized that he had leaned in, folding his arms on the edge of the loft. He had a soft look in his eyes; one Shorter had come to know as fondness. So he sees it too, Shorter thought.

“That reminds me, we should get some food and water in _you_ , Ash,” Shorter said.

“Thanks but no thanks. I’m alright,” Ash said.

“We’ll stop for food on the road,” Max said. He was busy stuffing a duffle bag with supplies.

“Oh, right. I guess we’ll need to pack things if we’re going,” Ash said. Max looked up, and then slumped his shoulders.

“Do we really?” he groaned.

“Unless you want us to go for days without showering or changing clothes, old man,” Ash said. He seemed to be regaining his energy. “Cape Cod is only our first stop.”

Max nodded and said, “Right.”

The rest of their time was spent in silence. The sun had finally set behind the horizon, and blue rays of light filtered through the windows. They covered themselves as much as possible and crept down the streets of Manhattan, stuffing their bags with anything they needed. Eiji had attempted to neatly fold his shirts and pants into his bag, but Ibe chided him and stuffed them in himself.

And then they were on the open road. Ash had volunteered to sit with Max in the front, but the older man waved him off.

“I’ve had enough of you for the next few hours,” he had said exasperatedly. Ash punched him in the shoulder in response.

“Just wake us up when we’re close, alright?” Ash demanded.

“You got it,” Max said.

The night was cold, but luckily the old truck they were in had a cover for the trunk that kept the wind at bay. They had two blankets, and so Eiji took one, and Ash and Shorter shared the other. Shorter was glad they had an excuse to cuddle.

Ash pulled his phone and a pair of earbuds out of his pocket. He offered a bud to Shorter. Shorter took it and they leaned closer, trying to hear the music over the rattling of the truck’s engine.

_I know I’ve only come half the way._

_But look in the mirror, I see an older me._

_Not realizing all the years that passed away._

_But I know I’ve only come half the way._

It was a song that brought Ash comfort, Shorter learned. They listened to it 3 times before settling on an indie-folk playlist. Shorter wasn’t fond of folk music, but everything sounded heavenly to him in that moment. He could feel God’s hands on his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Inspired by Do You Feel It by Chaos Chaos  
> Other Song Included: Broken Strings by Flower Travellin' Band  
> Follow me on tumblr @flowers-and-memes


	5. You're Doing Everything That Makes Me Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash and Shorter catch feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof sorry about the delay! Finals and writer's block hit me hard these past few weeks. But here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

_There’s something special about you._

_I must really like you,_

_Cause not a lot of guys are worth my time._

Ash was up as soon as he felt the truck lurch to a stop. He sat up and shook Shorter to wake him. Shorter stirred, and then yawned.

“What’s going on?” Shorter said, rubbing an eye with his fist.

“I guess the old man needs a break,” Ash said. There wasn’t any annoyance in his voice this time, Shorter noticed. Ash seemed to be at peace.

“Well good, cause I gotta piss like a racehorse,” Shorter said. Ash snorted,

“Is Eiji awake?” he said. As if the Japanese boy was listening, he turned over and sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” Ash said, “I guess we’re taking a break.”

The front doors of the truck slammed shut, and Ash heard the sound of feet on gravel. Where the fuck were they? Max parted the cloth of the trunk covering,

“Rise and shine,” he said, “we found a farmer’s market!”

“A farmer’s market?” Ash said.

“Yeah, figured we could get some food here,”

“Where are we?”

“Iowa,”

“Why are we in Iowa?” Ash said. If his knowledge of the States was correct, that was north when they needed to be going south. Any side-tracking would waste their time.

“Well, Route 66 is too scenic if we’re planning on getting to LA as fast as possible, so I figured we’d take-“

“Shut up and admit that you got lost overnight, old man,” Ash said.

“I didn’t get lost! For long…” Max said and rubbed the back of his head.

Ash huffed and said, “Whatever, let’s get food, I’m starving,”

The farmer’s market was in the middle of nowhere; there was nothing but golden grass in every direction. Just like Cape Cod, Ash thought. Fuck this place.

He jumped out of the trunk, the gravel crunching under his red sneakers, and squinted his eyes at the brightness. The sky was bright blue with scattered clouds and, if they stayed here long enough, the sun would warm him up nicely.

They had parked on the side of the road that parted a field of wheat. A wooden split-rail fence ran down one side all the way into the horizon and the other side was unguarded. Ash looked over his shoulder and saw a single traffic light dangling in breeze a few hundred feet away. An intersection. Another truck ambled by, sounding just as rickety as Max’s, carrying what looked like corn stalks. His stomach grumbled at the thought of sweet buttered corn and he pressed a hand to it.

The sound of shoes hitting gravel made him whirl around.

“Finally decent enough to show your face?” he said. Shorter seemed to be having none of it. He said, “Very much so, thank you.”

“Hope they have hot dogs or something. I’m not in the mood for apples and more apples,” Ash said and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“I’m sure they do. But I’ll be right back,” Shorter said.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t look!” Shorter said, and then proceeded to wade into the tall grass. “I still gotta piss, remember?”

Ash looked away, as Shorter requested, and snorted. Ibe and Max turned the corner of the intersection and came into view. Ash couldn’t hear them, but he was sure they were talking. They were smiling and shoving one another.

“Oh,” Ash heard a voice behind him. He turned around again, and saw the Japanese boy kneeling at the edge of the truck, peering out with big, curious eyes.

“Here, I’ll help you down,” Ash said, and held out his hand for Eiji to grab. He didn’t need to, the truck wasn’t that tall, but for some reason it felt right. Eiji took it, albeit lightly, and jumped down.

“Good morning,” Ash said, and internally slapped himself. He’d already said that, why did he say it again?

“Good morning,” Eiji said in a chipper tone. A soft breeze ruffled his hair and Ash realized how light and fluffy it was. He suddenly wondered if the market had any cotton candy so he could compare the softness.

“It is beautiful, here,” Eiji said.

“Yeah,” Ash said. He didn’t agree, but he enjoyed how much Eiji liked it. The land was flat and yellow as far as the eye could see. The sky was blue, but skies everywhere were blue. It wasn’t distinguishable from any other Midwestern state, or any central state for that matter. Flat land, wheat fields, blue skies. Ash wondered what Japan was like. Were there wheat fields and blue skies? Or were there mountains and rain storms? Where did Eiji live?

“Where are we?” Eiji said.

“Apparently we’re in Iowa,”

“Iowa?”

“It’s another state,” Ash said, “we were in Massachusetts and now we’re in Iowa.”

Ash felt odd then. He had never had to explain the states to anyone in his life. The names and general locations of the states were common knowledge to almost every American. Eiji wasn’t American though, he was all the way from Japan; across America to the west coast and then all the way across the pacific ocean. Ash felt at a loss then; there were fifty states in the US and Eiji had barely been in one of them.

“I can show you on the map,” Ash said and pulled out his phone. With some delay, he managed to find an image of the US map. Eiji leaned closer and Ash felt his heart skip a beat.

“See, here’s where we were,” Ash said and pointed to Massachusetts, “and here’s where we are now.”

“Ah,” Eiji said. His face showed nothing but wonder. In a sudden burst of giddiness, Ash asked,

“Do you like America?” Eiji’s face brightened, more so than it already was.

“Yes, yes!” he said, “I want to stay more…more long!” a nervous laugh came after and Eiji hunched ever so slightly. Ash had the sudden urge to put his hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder.

“I need study English more more more,” he said and giggled. Ash liked that sound. He wanted to hear it again, even if it was coming out of embarrassment.

“Your English is good,” Ash said and he was surprised by his own honesty. Where had this powerful urge to comfort the Japanese boy come from?  
“Thank you,” Eiji said with a big smile. He was wringing his hands and fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt.

“You just a little shy when you speak?” Ash said. He could feel a warm tickling sensation in his chest and it was wonderful. He could feel the sun warming up his hair.

Eiji paused for a moment and then said “Yes.”

“Don’t be shy,” Ash said, “No one should be shy when they look as cute as you.”

What. The fuck. Ash wanted to punch himself in the face. He wanted to take his gun out and shoot himself. Where did that flirty remark come from? He didn’t even notice its presence in his head before it came tumbling out of his mouth. But, as if God had seen his mistake and decided to have mercy on him, Eiji simply stared. His smile had waned slightly and he looked down at his sleeve, and then up again.

Eiji didn’t understand what he just said. Oh thank you, Jesus, Ash thought. The language barrier appeared to have at least _one_ advantage, then. Eiji gave that nervous laugh again, and pulled out his own phone.

“It is my dictionary,” Eiji said as he pulled up an app. He went silent then, concentration making his brows furrow. Two minutes passed and the silence became painfully awkward.

“I am very shy but,” Eiji looked at his phone again, “you are very nice so I will try hard.”

Ash smiled, Eiji was so sweet. And his determination made him very cute. “Thanks,” Ash said.

Eiji nodded, “You are welcome,” he said.

“Hey, you all ready to find some breakfast?” Max called. He and Ibe had returned from scouting out the market.

“Sure am, you should have just taken us with you,” Ash said.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to be wrong about it being a farmer’s market, so we wanted to check first,”

“Whatever, let’s just eat,”

Shorter emerged from the field again, hands behind his head.

“That was one long piss,” Ash said. Shorter shrugged, and then followed Max and Ibe in the direction of the market. What Ash hadn’t known, however, was that, after relieving himself, Shorter had dropped to his knees and prayed.

oOo

“Can you teach me some Japanese, Eiji?” Shorter said. They had reached the market’s parking lot—or what had been decided as the parking lot—and could smell the aroma of sunflowers and cooked meat.

“Okay,” Eiji said. Ash couldn’t get over how excited he sounded.

“How do you say ‘how are you’ in Japanese?” Shorter said. Eiji made a soft ‘oh’ sound, and then looked up towards the sky, thinking. Cute, Ash thought.

“Genki desu-ka,”

“Genki desu-ka?” Shorter repeated, and Eiji nodded. The Japanese boy looked down at his phone again, scrolling furiously. It was silent again, no sound but the crunching of their feet on gravel. Max and Ibe were chatting again a few feet ahead.

Eiji locked his phone when he found what he was looking for. “On first day, Charlie took us to restaurant...and he said ‘oishii oishii’ all the time. Always said ‘oishii’.”

“What does ‘oishii’ mean?” Ash said.

“’Oishii’ means…” Eiji paused for a moment, “tasty.” His awkward laugh that followed was absolutely horrid.

“Oh yeah, I know that one!” Shorter said.

“You do?” Eiji said, delight in his voice. Shorter put his hands in the pockets of his vest.

“Yeah, I watch anime and I picked some stuff up.”

“Oh,” Eiji made that noise again, Ash noticed. How many times would he make that noise? How many times would he act like a young child who had never experienced the world before? And how many times would Ash’s world slow down whenever Eiji did that? He needed to get some food in his stomach.

“Fucking weeb,” he said out loud. Shorter laughed in response.

oOo

Eiji was thinking again. Ash had only known the boy for a few days and he had already become familiar with the look he got on his face when he was translating something in his head. He went to take another bite of his corn cob, but stopped himself.

Eiji said, “Where is your favorite place in America?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Ash said. He was indifferent to Cape Cod, and New York was more of where he _had_ to be than where he _wanted_ to be. He hadn’t been anywhere else. A faint voice in the back of his head told him that his favorite place was anywhere Eiji and Shorter were, but he ignored it.

Eiji made a soft sound and then looked at Shorter, expecting an answer.

“I like being with my family, so I guess Chinatown,” the taller boy said.

“Chinatown is nice,” Eiji said. Ash had to suppress the urge to laugh. Chinatown was crowded and cramped and full of hoodlums looking for a fight. Nice wasn’t the right word, in his opinion.

“Oh yeah, I meant to say,” Shorter said, straightening his back, “sorry about the whole getting caught by Arthur thing.”

Eiji smiled and hummed in response.

“You’re brining that up now?” Ash said.

“What, you got anything else to talk about?” Shorter said, and then turned to Eiji. “What about you, Eiji? What do you like about America so far?”

Eiji sat back and started thinking again. Ash took the moment to pick up his half-eaten hotdog and take a bite.

“My friends…say go to Hollywood,” Eiji said. Ash and Shorter exchanged a look. Eiji must not have fully understood the question. Shorter shrugged.

“They said me that Hollywood…was very fun. So I go and look at their Twitter and Facebook, and…” Eiji stopped and made a vague gesture with his hands, obviously at a loss for words.

“It’s alright,” Shorter coaxed.

“They told me they have beautiful day in Hollywood, so maybe I can go see it.”

“We can go to Hollywood if we have some time,” Ash said.

“Yes. Sorry, my English,” Eiji said. Ash felt that urge to touch the smaller boy come back.

“Your English is good,” Shorter said, “it’s slow but it’s good.”

Ash leaned back to make eye contact with the taller boy. When Shorter looked over, Ash mouthed ‘it’s slow but it’s good’ and scrunched his nose. Shorter grinned, Ash flipped him off.

oOo

“C’mon Shorter. ‘You take your time but it’s good’? That was a pretty bad line,” Ash said, teasing. He had his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans as they walked.

“Fuck off, man. I’m trying my best here,” Shorter said. He was glad it was dark out; otherwise Ash would see how red his cheeks were.

“Eiji is too,” Ash said and finally burst out laughing. Shorter punched him in the shoulder, which only served to make Ash laugh more. The taller boy waited it out, enjoyed the sound of his lover laughing. He was suddenly reminded of all the times he could make Ash double over with laughter in those stolen moments of privacy. They wouldn’t be able to get any alone time until the recent events burned themselves out.

Ash regained his composure and said, “Anyway, I’m gonna help max pick up supplies. You need anything?”

Shorter said, “Nah, I’ll keep Eiji company,”

Ash gave him an unreadable look and said, “You do that.”

Shorter hoisted himself back into the truck. They had removed the covering, and Eiji was looking up at the stars. Shorter joined him, saying a quick “hey”, and then lapsing into companionable silence. He had only known Eiji for a week, but he felt so incredibly close to him, as if he had known him for years. Shorter supposed it was Eiji’s innate ability to pacify others. Every time Eiji was near, Shorter felt as though nothing was wrong in the world; as if nothing could harm him.

Shorter leaned himself over the edge of the trunk, resting his head on his folded arms.

Eiji spoke. “How long have you known Ash?” he said. Shorter sighed and felt a breeze blow through his hair.

“Ash and I have known each other for 3 years now,” Shorter said and almost couldn’t believe it. It felt like he had known Ash for decades, but at the same time it also felt like those three years had gone by much too fast. “Him and I are really close.”

Eiji hummed in response, then shifted slightly.

“When we were in reform school, Ash and I used to try and skip class in the afternoons. We’d smoke pot, and everyone would think we were so weird,” Shorter gave a soft laugh at the memory. They would sit on the far hill, under the tree, and smoke the terrible weed someone would smuggle in. “It was so beautiful.”

Eiji said nothing. A soft breeze kissed the backs of their necks.

“Ash would walk along the rocks and we’d try to sneak out to go swimming in the nearby lake. That never ended well,” Shorter said. Eiji giggled lightly. Shorter felt a shift, and looked over to see Eiji scooting himself closer, folding his arms and resting his head in a similar fashion. The Japanese boy gave him the softest, most knowing look, as if he was imagining Shorter and Ash playing in the prison yard.

“That is beautiful,” he said quietly.

“We’d dream about the future. Where we’d live, what we’d do,” Shorter took a breath, “but the future is not what we thought.” Eiji was silent again.

“When I learned about Ash’s life I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried to, but…” he trailed off. The night had gotten colder and the breeze had disappeared. Shorter looked up at the moon and stars, glimmering shards of silver in the sky. He continued,

“It hurt knowing that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Every time he found his smile again, somebody would take it away,” Shorter felt a pang of rage in his chest at the memory. “Whenever I thought about him suffering, it hurt.”

Eiji was looking up at the stars as well. Shorter wondered if the stars looked the same in Japan as they did in America.

“You care about him,” Eiji said.

“But, there’s another thing,” Shorter started, “Ash is the strongest person I know. He’s probably the strongest person who’s ever lived. For someone to have gone through as much as Ash has and to still be willing to fight…” Shorter could feel his eyes start to water. He hoped he could chalk it up to the cold air.

“It’s the most wonderful thing.” And I love him, Shorter thought. I love him so much it hurts. He kept that particular tidbit to himself, though, if only because he had started wondering if Eiji would fit into their equation.

“I think about it sometimes, you know? How crazy it is that Ash and I met. My parents died and I started doing stupid hoodlum shit to cope. I got caught and was sent to juvie for 9 months. I just remember feeling alone. Then, one day in juvie, I talked to this boy who I _hated_ ,” Shorter laughed at the memory of an infuriating 14 year old Ash. Eiji seemed to know what was coming and giggled too.

“I thought he was a bratty, stuck-up little bitch. But he started talking to me more and we started hanging out and eating meals together. And I realized that he was like me. Fucked up in some way, at odds with the world.”

“同腹,” Eiji whispered into his knees.

“Huh?” Shorter said.

Eiji shook his head and said, “It is okay.” Shorter turned his gaze back to the sky.

“We did some crazy shit when we got out of there. We got drunk, we got stoned, we trashed people’s cars—it was us against the world!” Shorter leaned back on his hands. A jet plane flew overhead, it’s red and green lights twinkling amongst the stars. Shorter wondered if the passengers on that plane felt like stars themselves, up there scraping the heavens, evading Earth’s gravitational pull for just a few fleeting moments. He inhaled the cold night air, letting it fill his lungs, and then exhaled.

“Ash is one of the only people in the world I’m connected to. He’s one of the only people who can bring me back to Earth before I get too far gone. But I think now things are going to get a lot better.”

“Me too,” Eiji said. The door to the supply shop opened and out walked Ash and Max, their bodies illuminated by the yellow lights inside.

“Just gotta put some more coolant in, then we’ll be good to go for the final stretch,” Max said and lifted the jug of blue liquid for them to see.

“They have free coffee inside,” Ash said. Eiji perked up at that.

“I will get some,” he said, and then hoisted himself out of the trunk and headed towards the shop.  Despite it being late, Eiji had a lot of spring to his step. Ash stole the opportunity to sit close to Shorter, leaning his head on the taller boy’s shoulder.

“You two trade secrets while I was gone?” he said.

“Something like that,” Shorter said. Ash lifted his head.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything dumb.”

“Really? That’s a first,” Ash said and was rewarded with a shove from Shorter. He snickered, and then laid his head back on Shorter’s shoulder.

“I just told him about how you and I met and how we became friends,” Shorter said. Ash didn’t respond. The breeze returned and Ash huddled closer. Then,

“Did you tell him about…us?”

Shorter said, “No, not without asking you first.” He wrapped an arm around Ash’s shoulders.

“I think I really like him, Shorter,” Ash said. “He feels like home.”

So Ash felt it, too. Shorter felt a wave of relief wash over him. Eiji was warmth and kindness and innocence and happiness and peace and healing and hope and…oh god, Shorter thought. He had only known him for a week and Shorter had fallen too.

“Do you like him, too?” Ash asked. Shorter snorted. To say he liked Eiji would be an understatement.

“I really like him too, Ash,” he said.

Ash smiled and said, “Good.”

“Fuck, what are we gonna do about this? You think Japanese people know about polyamory?”

“Hell if I know,”

“You’re hella smart, you’re supposed to know these things, Ash!” Shorter fell back so that he was laying flat against the bottom of the trunk.

“I just wanna be with him,” Ash said. He tucked his knees into his chest and rested his chin on them.

“Me too.”

Eiji emerged from the supply shop, the light illuminating his face as he side-stepped through the door, hugging three cups of coffee close to his chest. Ash felt the urge to open his arms and usher Eiji into an embrace, but he stamped it down. Why did the simple act of Eiji bringing him coffee make him want to shower the boy in kisses?

“One more day and we’ll be in California,” Shorter said. Ash said nothing, but Shorter could tell from the way he looked up at the stars that his lover was not afraid.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics inspired by You Don't Know My Name by Alicia Keys  
> follow me on tumblr @flowers-and-memes


	6. I Feel A Little Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss.

What had happened in the past 2 days? What had Shorter done recently that resulted in Eiji cuddling up to him on the couch under an orange blanket? Shorter wracked his brain, but found that what had happened between them was as natural as the wind. Eiji shifted slightly and Shorter could feel a tingle where their arms touched. The fireplace wasn’t on, but the room felt incredibly warm.

“Do you normally drink tea?” Eiji said. Shorter’s eyes drifted from the empty fireplace to the steaming cups on the coffee table.

“Sometimes. Normally my sister makes it,” he said.

“Your sister,” Eiji echoed.

“Yeah, you met her, remember? Over at Chang Dai,” Shorter said.

“Oh yes,” Eiji said, “I remember!”

“She’s had to put up with a lot of my shit. She’ll be glad when she hears it’s all over,” Shorter said and then leaned forward to bring the cup to his lips. The strong, earthy flavor of Jin Hou rolled across his tongue. The blanket had rolled down onto his lap when he leaned forward, exposing his arms. The lack of shared warmth caused a chill to run down his spine. He heard Eiji gasp lightly and looked over to him.

Eiji was staring at his arm and…was he blushing?

“Oh, you like?” Shorter said while lifting his arm to flex his bicep. He couldn’t help but feel the usual pride and confidence that attention to his muscles brought him. He should have figured _someone_ would ogle him in his short sleeve shirt. “You can touch if you want.”

Eiji lifted a hand, but stopped himself before he touched. He looked up at Shorter, and then back down at his arm. Shorter lowered his arm back down to a resting position and Eiji rested his fingertips on the bicep.

“You have scars,” Eiji said. He looked closer and dragged his fingertips across the raised skin. Shorter cursed himself for not realizing what Eiji had seen.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I do,” Shorter said. He watched Eiji trace the mark and shivered at the feather-light touch.

Eiji was looking at an old scar, one that was probably more than two years old. The memory of it was still fresh in his mind, however. Another knife fight. Shorter versus a repeated trespasser on Chinatown turf. They had both been sweaty, having discarded their shirts to raise the stakes. It was a fight to the death and Shorter was losing. His opponent had slashed into his bicep deep enough to let the skin zip apart and reveal white tissue before red blood came rushing in to fill the gap. In a last ditch effort to save his own life, Shorter had slashed at the man’s throat. He remembered the sound of the man’s artery spurting blood onto the concrete.

Shorter blinked and the memory was gone, replaced by the sight of Eiji tenderly running his fingers to a smaller scar. Knife fights resulted in so many tiny nicks and scrapes that he stopped trying to remember them all. Some of them, however, were harder to forget.

Eiji prodded at the dark brown scar on his forearm and he felt a jab of pain shoot all the way up to his shoulder. He did his best to stifle the wince, but the memory hurt just the same. He had been on the ground, knocked onto his rear and bleeding from his right hip. His opponent was bringing the knife down and he blocked it with his forearm. It cut into the muscle like butter, but his opponent had been shocked by his choice, and he was able to sink his own blade into their neck. He still remembered how warm his opponent’s blood was as it squirted onto his face and the wide, panicked look in their eyes when they felt themself bleeding out…

“I get into a lot of fights,” Shorter said, and without thinking, he reached into his sneaker and pulled out his switch blade. He released the blade with a swift _schick!_ and Eiji jumped. “It’s what I get for choosing knives over guns,”

“Oh,” Eiji leaned in and inspected the blade. Shorter twisted it this way and that and it glinted in the yellow lamp light. Eiji sat back and looked down at his lap.

“I am sorry,” he said.

Shorter’s heart skipped. “What are you sorry for?”

Eiji sighed softly. “You have been through so much,” he said. A look of pain replaced the usual happiness and wonder.

“I have, but it’s nothing to be sorry about,” Shorter said. In a fleeting moment of protectiveness, he put an arm around the back of the couch. The urge to wrap his arm around _Eiji_ was incredibly strong, but he resisted. Eiji looked up at him with those soft brown eyes and Shorter felt something he probably shouldn’t. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m still alive, right?”

“I’m happy you’re still here,” Eiji said softly. The smaller boy angled his body and leaned further into Shorter, placing his weight on his broad chest. Shorter pushed his sunglasses up onto his head with a thumb and forefinger.

Shorter’s throat tightened when he realized the decision he had made. His mouth went dry and he swallowed. Eiji was looking up at him expectantly, as if he knew what was going to happen. Did he? Shorter tried to clear his mind and leaned in, gauging the smaller boy’s reaction. Eiji didn’t move away, only let his eyelids drop slightly. Shorter looked down at Eiji’s lips and found himself licking his own.

He closed the distance between them.

The connection was electric. Shorter exhaled deeply when he felt the pulse of energy rush through his limbs. There was a beat, and then he felt Eiji kiss back. Shorter took that as his cue and he moved his arm from behind the couch and wrapped it around Eiji’s shoulders. It was an awkward position, but his body was screaming for more contact. He pulled away and then pressed their lips together once more. He felt Eiji make a vague sound, and then he felt a small hand place itself on his chest. It wasn’t pushing him away; it just lay there, resting. Shorter wished he could glue that hand there, keep it on his body forever.

He could tell Eiji was not an experienced kisser. The Japanese boy was following Shorter’s lead, only kissing back when Shorter pressed his lips to his, and never initiating the breaks on his own. Shorter sighed into the kiss when he felt the familiar churning heat return in his stomach. The same heat he felt when he kissed Ash and no one else; the heat that set his soul on fire. Before he could revel in that heat, there was a single pulse that ran down between his legs. Shorter placed his other hand on Eiji’s shoulder and kissed harder. Any other night, it would be the right place and the right time, but here-

There was a light knock and then the door opened. Shorter found it almost impossible to fully break away and wasn’t able to let go in time to keep things secret. Someone stepped in and Shorter ripped himself away from Eiji’s lips.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Yut-Lung said. Shorter shifted, Eiji was frozen.

“Er, kind of,” Shorter said.

“Ash wants you to come to the study. He’s found everything,” Yut-Lung said, and then slipped out, shutting the door behind him. Shorter looked at Eiji.

Eiji was looking down at his lap, his cheeks flushed a deep red. Shorter sighed and untangled himself from their embrace. Eiji’s hand fell from his chest and he felt the empty spot throb as if it were a wound. He stood up and fixed his shirt. It was a good thing Yut-Lung came in, Shorter thought. He felt Eiji staring at his back.

“Well, I guess we should go and see what Ash found,” he said. He pushed his sunglasses back down and felt a little more stable. Eiji nodded and followed.

oOo

“Hello?” A tinny voice said.

“Hey Nadia, it’s me,” Shorter said.

“Shorter, where are you?”

“I’m all the way across the country right now, in LA,” Shorter said.

“Where are you calling from?”

“Burner,”

There was a sigh on the other side followed by a long stretch of silence.

Nadia said, “Are you safe?”

Shorter said, “As safe as I can be right now.”

“Why are you calling?” Nadia said. Shorter snorted. As much as his older sister worried about him, she really didn’t like it when he wasted her time with mindless conversation.

“I just…” Shorter struggled to form the words, “I just wanted to talk.”

“What’s up?” Nadia said.

Shorter took a deep breath. “I think I’ve fallen in love again,” he said.

Nadia didn’t skip a beat when she said, “Does Ash like Eiji too?”

Shorter choked. “How’d you know it was Eiji?”

“I saw him when he came into Chang Dai, remember? I figured he’d catch your eye,” Nadia laughed.

“I hate you so much,” Shorter said flatly. “I think he likes Eiji. We haven’t really talked about it much, though.”

“Why?”

“We’ve been kinda busy with stuff,” Shorter said. He looked up at the silvery stars in the night sky and remembered what Ash said to him only a few nights ago.

_I just wanna be with him._

“I think it’ll work out,” Nadia said.

“Me too,” Shorter said. He felt a presence behind him. Ash. “I gotta go now. I love you.”

“I love you too, Shorter. Come back home alive, okay?”

“I promise I will,” Shorter said and then tucked the phone back into his pocket. He heard Ash walk down the steps and stop next to him.

“Nadia holding up alright?” Ash said.

“Yeah,” Shorter said. A breeze ruffled their hair and Ash pushed his hands into his pockets. They enjoyed the cool evening air for a few minutes.

“I kissed Eiji,” Shorter said.

“You did,” Ash said. He said it as if it were a statement rather than a question.

“I…It just kind of happened,” Shorter said.

“I guess we’re even then, cause I’ve already kissed him,” Ash said. Shorter froze and then whirled around to Ash. The blond boy was grinning.

“I kissed Eiji when he visited me in prison. Mind you, it was to pass a message, but still,” Ash said.

“God dammit, I thought you were gonna be mad at me!” Shorter said in exasperation.

“What did Eiji think?” Ash said.

Shorter shrugged. “We didn’t really have a chance to talk. Yut-Lung interrupted us,”

“Whoops,”

“It’s not your fault,” Shorter said, “It’s just kinda all your fault.”

Ash punched his shoulder in response. “Sorry, I just publicized all the information to crumble the Corsican mafia,” he said sarcastically. “I figured I’d let you and Eiji know when I did it.”

“What are we gonna do about this?” Shorter said.

“Tell Eiji we’re in love with him?” Ash suggested.

“Awesome in theory, kind of a mess in practice,” Shorter said. Ash chuckled.

“I mean, I guess we should lay low for now. But we should at least _tell_ him, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Shorter said, “I guess I’m just shy.”

Ash snorted. “That’d be a first.”

oOo

The electronic bell rang when the front door opened and Shorter voiced his usual welcome with the other employees. He tapped on the computer screen with his knuckle and waited on the receipt to print. When it printed, he placed it into a check-holder and then tucked it into his apron. He was on server duty that day, a task he often dreaded. He turned on his heel and almost collided with Nadia.

“Ash is here,” she said, “he’s at table 3.” She glided into the kitchen before he could reply.

Shorter walked around the corner and saw Ash in his usual spot, hunched over the table and scrolling through his phone. He slid himself into the booth across from Ash.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Ash replied. He looked up from his phone.

“What brings you in today?” Shorter said and rested his head in one hand.

Ash snorted. “Just wondering what a white boy has to do to get some good Chinese food around here.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Shorter said and then took out his notepad. “The usual?”

Ash nodded. “You guessed it.” A soft smile graced his features and Shorter found himself staring. It wasn’t often that he could see Ash relaxed and smiling in public. He took pride in his ability to make Ash laugh. He stood up from the table and said “Cool, I’ll be back.”

Without thinking, he placed a glass of Pepsi on the table. He could feel Ash’s eyes on his back whenever he passed by. Ash tended to watch him while he worked, but Shorter knew that Ash didn’t need anything; he just liked watching. Shorter wouldn’t admit it, but having Ash in the restaurant made working a lot more enjoyable. It wasn’t that he liked showing off his plate-carrying skills or anything; Ash had a warm presence about him. Wherever he went, he carried light with him that he shared with the people that needed it most. Shorter could compare Ash to sunshine.

He was stirred from his thoughts when his ears tapped into a conversation between two elderly Chinese women.

“-must be dating that white boy. I’ve seen them around town together.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes! They’re inseparable! Have you seen the way they look at each other?”

“I suppose it’s young puppy love,”

“It really is,”

“Times have changed. A Chinese boy and a white boy, who would have thought?”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Shorter snorted. He was lucky they were speaking in Cantonese; otherwise he was sure Ash would have something to say about them to Shorter. Those same two aunties were the ones that fixed Shorter with apprehensive glares a few weeks ago. He knew they didn’t approve of his relationship with Ash. He had thought he had hidden it well, but an old woman’s intuition was second to none.

As long as word didn’t spread from the old women to the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title inspired by Crush by Yuna & Usher  
> follow me on tumblr @flowers-and-memes


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